Hour of Mischief (26 page)

“Also not very long,” the man said. Then he strode past me and went straight to the tables to set down his books. “Well, anyone who finds their way has a right to the materials. Feel free to look around.” Then he turned to his work.

I stared at him, trying to figure out what I should say. A solid minute of silence passed before he noticed I still stood in front of him, and he looked up at me, slightly irritated.

“I’m a bit busy now, if you don’t mind,” he said.

“That’s fine. I’m not interested in talking to you,” I sneered. His tone immediately put the words back in my mouth. “I need to speak with Viden and Kaval.”

The man raised an eyebrow and from that simple movement I could tell his reply would piss me off.

“
You
want to see the Gods of Wisdom?”

“Yes I do. Did you not hear me correctly?” I asked.

“No, I did,” the man said. He looked me over again and I couldn’t help but clench my fists. “I’m sorry,” he said in a way that didn’t make him sound sorry at all. “Your type doesn’t usually come here to request an audience with Viden and Kaval.”

“My type?” I said through gritted teeth. “And what type would that be?”

“You’re clearly from the slums,” the man said. “Don’t think you can hide it. Actually, I’m surprised you got in here. People from your part of the city always give off a distinct scent. Not to mention your dirty appearance.” A smirk came over his lips. Somehow, that expression managed to be even
more
annoying than Itazura’s mischievous grins. Quite an accomplishment. “Did you even go to school?”

“No,” I said.

“Can you even
read
?”

“Yes actually, I can,” I said.

“So can many.” The man shrugged. “Honestly, girl.”

My eye twitched.

“Just because you find your way here does not mean you are worthy of the Gods of Wisdom. It merely means you are competent. Competence is a common thing in this world. The Gods of Wisdom seek those who seek, live, and breathe knowledge. Someone who can offer them something more.

“You cannot offer them anymore than I can. I’m sure I know everything you do.” He looked back down at his papers, ignoring the boiling mad expression on my face. “Feel free to read, but I doubt Viden and Kaval wish to have an audience with a slum dweller.”

I couldn’t speak. Rage had formed a lump in my throat, trapping my words inside. A fire burned in my cheeks and I was surprised it didn’t raise the temperature in the room.

Somewhere along the line, I managed to regain my breath and my words came back to me. When I spoke, my voice came out satisfyingly calm, even though I wanted nothing more than to wrap my steel hand around the man’s throat.

“Do you know how to navigate your way through a burning building?” I asked.

The man looked up in surprise. “What?”

“Oh, it’s just you said you knew everything I did,” I said, my voice dripping with false sweetness. “So you must know how to navigate your way through a burning building.”

“I . . . don’t. . . .” The man frowned. “I fail to see why I would need to know that.”

“Simple,” I said. “If you happened to be trapped
inside
the burning building, it might help you out.”

“I live in a building made of steel.” The man told me.

“On the outside, yes. But not everything is entirely steel,” I said. “I bet the floors are made of wood. Ebony bark perhaps? Oh and the stairs. But it doesn’t matter if you don’t live in a building made of wood. I’m sure you’ve been inside one before.” I shrugged. “But a lot of material can be set on fire. Steel too. Do you not know how to set metals on fire either?”

“I . . . you . . .” the man sputtered, looking around the room as if expecting to see a book entitled
“How to Navigate your Way out of a Burning Building”
or
“How to Get Rid of the Slum Girl Who Won’t Go Away.”

“Don’t bother looking around,” I said. “You can’t find this type of knowledge in a book. It’s knowledge that comes with solid experience. Luckily you have me to educate you.” I leaned over the table, staring him straight in the eye. “First off, you need to cover your mouth and eyes. Strong cloth will do. Nothing fancy like the silk or leather they like in this part of Fortuna.

“Silk is too fragile and leather won’t let you breathe. You might need the rougher stuff for this job. Too bad you aren’t well stocked with that.”

I looked him up and down in the same patronizing way in which he had observed me. “You cover your eyes, too, so you can see. If you’re on the lower level of the building, it’s sometimes easier to make your way through all the smoke and flames without getting too many burns. Of course, if your clothes are too flimsy you’ll be worse off.

“That nice suit of yours wouldn’t do well. You’ll have to avoid all of those metal objects inside of your house, including doorknobs or you could burn your hands off. If you’re in a house filled with high tech gadgets, you could be in more trouble. Explosions, you know?

“But anyway, you’d have to go through a window. Do you know how to jump through a window in a way that minimizes the damage done by the glass?”

The man opened his mouth to reply but I’d already moved on.

“Of course not. You’ve never been in that position, either. You’d be in for quite a surprise when you finally tried it. You’d scratch your clean skin up. It’d hurt pretty badly. But anyway, I was talking about the burning building.

“The trouble comes if you have to go up and down stairs. Do you know where to step on a wooden stair in order to minimize the possibility of it breaking?” The man remained silent when I paused.

“No? Well you have to step as close to the wall as possible. If you step in the center, it will likely give way. From there you have to navigate through the stronger parts of the second story or you might take a spill onto the lower floor.

“Tell me, how do you tell a weak piece of wood floor from a strong piece of floor?” Again no answer, but this time I barely paused to let him think. My words poured out in angry floods.

“The pieces that appear the least blackened. Step on a piece blackened by flames and it will crumble to ash under your feet. You’re more likely to survive if you weigh less but given all the three-course meals you’ve probably had all your life, I guess you’re at a disadvantage again.” I leaned closer to him, sneering. “So what were you saying about knowing so much more than me?”

The man stood abruptly. Now he was the one looking murderous. “This is not knowledge.”

“Then what is it?” I asked. “It’s not useless. Knowing those little facts is what kept me alive this long. Survival skills. Those
are
a part of wisdom. But you
couldn’t
know everything I know. Because you’ve never been in a position when your life is in danger.

“You don’t know how to best ration a meager supply of food to survive for a month when you don’t have much money to get by because you’ve never had to. You don’t know the best routes to outrun a vigilant guard or their typical patterns when they fight. You don’t know pain either. You’ve never lost an arm, been seared by flame, had your midsection crushed, had your fingers nearly sliced off, so if you were in a life-threatening situation, the pain would put you out of commission and you would most likely die.

“And you don’t know what it’s like to
fail
. I don’t know anyone has ever told you this, but sometimes failure can give you knowledge too.”

“And what makes you think Viden and Kaval will be impressed by any of that?” the man said, leaning over me.

Unfortunately, like most people in my life, he stood much taller than me.

“I don’t know, I hear they’re pretty smart,” I snapped. “Smarter than an arrogant, pompous bastard like you. Here’s another thing I’ve heard recently, Arrogance
isn’t
wisdom!”

The man’s eyes narrowed and his fist clenched ready for a punch—which would have given him quite a surprise when he found his wrist entrapped in my much stronger steel hand—but before he could even raise his arm a voice called out from behind us.

“Vayrelius. You may stop now.”

The man froze and immediately whirled around, clasping his hands in front of him and bowing his head. “Lady Viden. Lord Kaval.”

turned slowly, my eyes wide. I don’t know what I expected to see when I lay eyes upon the twin gods but I certainly anticipated someone . . . older. Wisdom always made me thing of those really old men and women with bad backs and wispy grey hair who sit hunched over books and scrolls all day. The two gods before me certainly had silvery-white hair. But both Viden and Kaval took the form of children. Only around ten-years old.

“She speaks wise words, her tone is harsh,” Viden said. She was young, but her eyes still seemed to belong to an old woman who had seen everything to be seen in the world. Her brother echoed her expression. Yes, they appeared to be children, but I had no reason to doubt their godhood.

“Indeed,” Kaval said. “Arrogance does not beget wisdom. Though wisdom too often begets arrogance. That is a false sort of wisdom however.”

“I agree,” Vayrelius said to my surprise. And when he straightened, he smiled. “I’m sorry. I do hate appearing so pompous, but my lord and lady decided it would be the most effective way to test you.”

I blinked. It was as if another person had swapped places with the arrogant jerk from moments before. He looked so much kinder now.

“You were just . . . testing me?” I mumbled.

“Yes,” Vayrelius said.

“You’re a really good actor.” I managed after a pause. “I’m . . . I’m sorry, I just–”

“There is no need to apologize. He meant to elicit such a reaction from you.” Viden said in a girlish voice that didn’t at all seem to match her eyes. She strode forward, followed by her brother to stand opposite Vayrelius and me. The two mirrored each other’s movements, walking in pace with each other, slowly and carefully as if every step was important and meant to be. When they stopped only a few feet in front of us, I got the urge to kneel. It didn’t feel right looking down on these gods.

“Many humans find wisdom the most difficult in a state of anger,” Kaval said.

“And only the wise speak with eloquence when in such a state.” Viden nodded.

“More often they stutter.”

“Lose their thoughts.”

“Forget why they came.”

“But you did not.” They two said finally in unison. It seemed they never finished a complete thought by themselves. They truly were like one all-knowing being. Just split in two.

“You weren’t . . . exactly eloquent.” Viden said. “And your emotions did get the best of you.”

I flushed, about to defend myself when they both held up a hand to stop me.

“However,” Kaval said. “You still spoke truth despite that. And all too often eloquence can be used to conceal lies.”

“Dress it up and make it seem like fact.” Viden nodded gravely.

“But you cannot lie about experience and what you experienced is all too real,” Kaval said.

“So, we grant you audience.”

I was breathless with relief and confusion. “Really?”

The twin gods’ mouths quirked in unison. “Really.”

“You were impressive,” Vayrelius said moving over to the table to gather up his things. “I can’t deny it. And don’t worry. I don’t take offense to your words. You believed I was belittling you. I apologize for any anger I might have caused you. I don’t really believe those things about slum dwellers.”